Page 48 of The Cosy Travelling Christmas Shop

‘Good idea. It’ll make one hell of a mess otherwise. Get in and you can direct me.’

Her house was in the middle of a terraced street, with generous gardens to the back and a lane beyond that. The lane was only narrow, but the refuse lorry was able to get down there, so hopefully Daniel’s truck would be able to do the same.

Seren clambered into the cab and clicked the seatbelt in, conscious of how near she was to him, and how his fresh outdoorsy scent filled her nose making her feel light-headed.

He drove slowly and carefully, but her fears regarding the width of the lane were unfounded and she breathed a sigh of relief when he brought the vehicle to a halt where she indicated. Jumping to the ground, she hurried to open the gate.

Daniel dropped the tailgate on the truck and followed her into the garden, where he stopped and blinked. ‘This is a nice size,’ he said.

‘It’s a pain to mow,’ she said over her shoulder, as she scuttled up the path towards the brick shed next to the house.

‘You could put a hard standing or even a garage here, if you wanted,’ he said, following at a slower pace and looking around, although she wasn’t sure how much he could see of it in the dark. ‘For your travelling shop, I mean.’

Seren opened the shed door and ushered him inside, shying away as he stepped through the door in case she made a fool of herself; she felt an urge to kiss him, and she stamped down on it ruthlessly. Now was not the best time to jump him – it was dark and cold, they had a tonne of greenery to unload, and no doubt he wanted to get off home.

‘Wow!’ he cried halting just inside the doorway. ‘You certainly like Christmas, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ she replied. ‘But a lot of this isn’t mine. It’s the stuff I’m selling on a sale or return basis. The wreaths, garlands and centrepieces are mine, though.’ And that was because they were incredibly cheap to make. If she had to buy all the things she’d been provided with by her suppliers, she would either be in debt or Dippy would look terribly sparse.

‘They’re lovely,’ Daniel said. ‘I didn’t get a chance to have a good look at them yesterday. I’ll bring the greenery in, and you can sort through it. Whatever you don’t want, I can put back on the truck.’

By the time she’d selected the strands of ivy she wanted to keep, Seren was frozen to the bone. She’d switched the paraffin heater off earlier because the door was constantly being opened and closed and it seemed wasteful to keep it on, but as soon as the last length of foliage was neatly hung on a hook originally meant for a garden fork, and all the discarded and excess bits had been put back on the truck, she closed the door and turned the heater up to full.

‘Would you like a coffee to warm up?’ Seren asked, gesturing to a battered table with a small coffee machine and two mugs sitting on it.

‘Great idea. I’ll make it, you warm yourself. You look like you’re freezing.’

‘I am.’ She smiled at him gratefully, holding her hands out and groaning as welcome warmth seeped into them. ‘Aren’t you cold?’

‘I’m kind of used to it,’ he said, putting a pod into the machine. ‘I spend most of my time outdoors, although I’d be lying if I said I liked the winter. I tolerate it.’

‘Tobias said you don’t get much gardening work at this time of year.’

‘I don’t. Which is why I’m doing the Santa thing.’

‘You don’t seem to like it much.’

‘It’s OK, I suppose. Each time I do it, it gets easier. It’s not talking to the kids that bothers me, it’s the commercialism.’

Seren was pleased that his reluctance had nothing to do with children, and she could sort of empathise with the commercialism thing – which was ironic considering what she was doing. But somehow it felt totally different to the items the supermarket sold. There it was all about bulk sales and moving so many units of stock, and with no opportunity to chat to customers or to take the time to find out what they were looking for. Besides, any seasonal stuff was merely an add-on for the shop, bought in at the lowest price they could pay, and sold for the highest price possible. It all seemed so impersonal and money-grabbing.

Seren hoped that she and her little travelling Christmas shop weren’t viewed the same way.

Daniel held out a mug of steaming coffee and Seren wrapped her hands around it gratefully.

‘I think part of it is that the meaning of Christmas has been taken and twisted,’ he said, ‘and that’s one of the reasons I’m not that keen. Listening to all those little ones asking for expensive toys and games, and wondering if their poor parents can afford it…’ He sighed, then blew on his coffee and took a sip.

‘I see where you’re coming from,’ she said, ‘and I agree with you to a certain extent, but a mid-winter festival of some kind or another has been around for millennia. I was reading somewhere that it was a way to ensure the sun returned and that the longest night was over. Bringing greenery inside to decorate our homes is part of that ancient tradition. Holly, ivy, mistletoe, branches of fir trees, and even the yule log all played a part,’ she said.

‘Is that why you make wreaths and garlands and so on?’

Seren was thrilled he was taking such an interest, unlike Tobias. But then, leaves and stuff were part and parcel of Daniel’s job. Maybe if she’d rabbited on about spark plugs or gear cogs, Tobias would have been more interested.

‘I suppose,’ she said. ‘But I also like making them, and most of the stuff is free.’

‘There is that,’ he agreed, wandering over to the last wreath she’d made and bending to examine it. ‘You use willow to make the frame?’

‘I do. It’s sustainable and easy to get hold of, and it can be composted afterwards.’

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